


Gangsters Just Want to Have Fun

by wellthatsood



Category: Boardwalk Empire
Genre: Crack, Eyebrows, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-31
Updated: 2014-03-31
Packaged: 2018-01-17 16:20:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1394194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wellthatsood/pseuds/wellthatsood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s a night off for the gangsters as they converge in Atlantic City for a little rest, relaxation, and pampering.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gangsters Just Want to Have Fun

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: THIS IS EXTREME CRACK

“Mr. Thompson…” Eddie Kessler poked his head into Nucky’s study. “New York has just arrived in the other room. We are still waiting for Mr. Capone.” 

Nucky thanked him and dismissed him. He tidied up his desk, setting aside his work. Business had concluded for the week; he could worry about running Atlantic City again on Monday. For the time being, however, his only concern was playing host to his guests. 

He pulled the bathrobe tight across his chest as he strode into the other room. “Gentlemen,” he announced, opening his hands in greeting. “Thank you for joining me tonight.” 

New York was settling in amongst the others—Charlie was glued to Meyer’s side, as per usual, while Rothstein loomed over his shoulder like a particularly protective Mother Hen. Chalky, Richard, and Eli sat together opposite them, emerging from their discussion to give greetings to the new arrivals. 

“Shall we get down to business?” Nucky asked. There was a general murmur of enthused agreement, as the door swung open. 

“Sorry I’m late,” Al Capone’s voice boomed as he strode into their midst, dropping gracelessly into an armchair and putting his legs up onto Eli’s lap—who promptly shoved him off with a hard glare. “I miss anything?” Al asked, untroubled. 

“Not as yet, Mr. Capone.” It was Eddie Kessler who answered, backing into the room and pulling a small cart with him. He served drinks to all who wanted them, while Nucky picked up a small mirror from Eddie’s things, along with a pair of tweezers. He held out his arms and smiled. 

“As I said, business. Chalky? You are the expert in this area, so I will defer to you.” Nucky placed the objects into his hands and stepped aside. 

Chalky gave a gruff nod, cleared his throat, and looked out at the room. “The trick’s all in the shape. You get the right shape, you get the gold—you understand me? Get it wrong, you gonna be one sorry-ass mothafucka. The right shape can change it all, put things in your favor…” 

Eli tapped his leg impatiently, one hand supporting the weight of his head as he slumped in his chair. “And are you gonna tell us your big secret, or you gonna keep on wasting time? Told June I’d be home before midnight.” 

Chalky glared. “You see this look I’m givin’ you? Wouldn’t be half as good if I let my brows get all mangy,” he warned, preening those self-same eyebrows as he spoke. “Capone here, his brows are flat. Don’t do no favors for that boulder-face of his.”  

“Whatdjya call me?” Al demanded. “You got shit to say about my eyebrows, huh? Luciano’s sittin’ over there with fuckin’ _caterpillars_ on his face, and you’re talkin’ about _mine—”_

“Wait just one fuckin’ second with your fuckin’ caterpillars, Capone—” 

“Charlie! Charlie, _Charlie—”_ chorused Meyer and Rothstein. 

“DO YOU MOTHAFUCKAS WANT TO RIP EACH OTHER’S COCKS OFF, OR DO YOU WANT TO SIT DOWN, SHUT UP, AND LISTEN TO WHAT I GOT TO SAY,” Chalky barked. The room fell silent. He sat up, adjusted his jacket, and barred his teeth. “As I was _sayin’…_ Start ‘em right here, corner of your eye. Get yourself a nice curve, round about here, and give a clean arch that’s nice and natural.” 

“Mr. White, if I may,” Meyer began, leaning forward in his chair. Charlie was still sulking beside him; Rothstein looked bored as he rubbed his shoulder in reassurance. “Given that eyebrows come in pairs, what advice can you provide to ensure symmetry in our tweezing endeavors?” 

“I. Don’t have that. Problem,” Richard said quietly from the corner. Al traced the painted brow of his mask admiringly, murmuring with envy that Richard only had to tweeze half what the rest of them had to do. 

Chalky, meanwhile, cleared his throat to draw attention back to himself. Sternly, he pointed to Meyer, something hard in his gaze. “You gotta do the best goddamn job you can to make ‘em the same, and that’s all there is.” 

“Now hold on just one fuckin’ second,” interjected Eli with a wave of his hand. “Why do they gotta be the same? Brows should be _siblings,_ not twins.” 

The room stared at him in silence. He gave a half-hearted shrug in response, stating gruffly, “What? June’s got good tips on these things.” 

“Hey, if you gotta brow that looks like your brother, I feel sorry for you, huh?” Al snorted with laughter and elbowed Richard in the ribs. Richard winced. 

Nucky, on the other hand, did not find it remotely funny. He stepped forwards, tilting his head to the side as he squared his chest and stared Al down. “Would you care to _explain_ that comment to me?” 

Al dismissed him with a wave of his hand, punctuating each comment with a further flourish. “Brow looks like you? It’s gaunt and wiry like a fuckin’ shoebrush, all I’m sayin’.” 

“I _invite_ you down here, and you’re going to speak to me like that?” 

Meyer interceded for the second time that evening. “Gentlemen, might I remind you that we have all come here for a common purpose. It would be foolish to waste our time together, when we have so much to accomplish.” 

Nucky glared, but stepped back from the fight. He grabbed the mirror and tweezers from Chalky’s hands and threw them into Charlie’s lap. “Here. Take care of your caterpillars,” he snapped bitterly, eager to push the criticism onto someone other than himself. Charlie gripped the tweezers as though he would rather use them to gouge, glaring murderously at Nucky, but said nothing—due largely to Meyer’s hand clamped down in warning on his forearm. 

Eddie Kessler passed out two additional sets of mirrors and tweezers. On the couch, Meyer held the mirror up, while Charlie pulled belligerently at his brow. Richard was kind enough to do the same for Al, while Eli preferred to balance his between his knees and lean down to work. Chalky presided over them all with a shrewd eye, eager to point out flaws where they occurred and offer corrections. 

“Mr. Thompson, Mr. White, if I might impose on your otherwise smoothly-run operation for just one moment…” It was the first Rothstein had spoken to the group since entering. All eyes turned towards him and he nodded in curt thanks for their attention. “My associate here, Mr. Luciano, seems to be in danger of putting his eye out, or else removing his skin entirely with his vigorous plucking. Now, it has been my experience that the skin is most receptive to tweezing when it has been properly prepared. As I’m sure Mr. White can attest, such details are crucial.” 

“Get on with it Arnold,” Nucky interrupted impatiently. 

Chalky held up a hand to silence him. “Let him speak. Man’s got a fine pair of brows, if ever I’ve seen ‘em.” 

Rothstein gave a controlled smile and continued. “That said, I believe it would be in all of our best interests to procure, say… a warmed washcloth. If, of course, Mr. Thompson is willing to provide and if he truly has our best interests at heart.” 

Nucky glared at the insinuation that his interests should be otherwise, before snapping to get Eddie’s attention, and ordering him off to fetch what Rothstein requested. Satisfied at having received a positive response, Rothstein added, “Perhaps a moisturizer would not go amiss, either.” 

Eddie Kessler returned momentarily. With Chalky and Rothstein’s tutelage, the room was filled with metallic clicks, indignant grunts of pain, and remarks of satisfaction when everything began to—quite literally—take shape. Al was the first to finish, with great pride in his newly developed arches. “How’s them eyebrows, huh?” he asked, deeply invading Richard’s personal space to make sure he got a good look. 

“Very. Nice,” Richard complimented, subtly leaning back in an effort to escape Al’s looming presence. Al threw the mirror at him; Richard fumbled, nearly dropping it, before setting to work sheepishly on his own eyebrow. 

Meanwhile, Charlie was growing increasingly disgruntled. “It hurts too bad,” he complained, one eyebrow glowing bright red from his vigorous preening. Meyer held the wash cloth to his face with a long-suffering sigh. “I’m done with this shit.” 

“Charlie, you shouldn’t leave a job unfinished,” Rothstein advised with a smirk, patting his cheek. Charlie pouted; he still had a lot of plucking to do, and resumed with a scowl. “That’s not the way to conduct yourself.” 

They worked on in silence, taking turns with the mirrors, until everyone’s brows were finely groomed and respectable. Eli got to his feet, brushed tiny hairs off his lap, and grabbed the moisturizer from his brother; he dabbed it across his brows and admired himself in the mirror above the mantel. 

“Better be home. June’s waitin’ up,” Eli explained. “Thanks for the night, Nuck.” 

“You certain?” he responded. “You’ll miss the exfoliating face masks.” 

Eli declined, as did Richard. The pair set off to their respective homes—once Chalky approved of their handiwork—leaving the others to continue bickering over the proper way to remove dead skin. Eddie distributed the necessary supplies, and they set to work. Rothstein and Nucky disagreed often, with Chalky aggressively mediating their conversation. Meyer’s eyes were rolling back in his head as he struggled to remain awake and listen to the advice of his older mentors. Charlie was not so successful. 

“They done yet?” he asked, head drooping onto Meyer’s shoulder. He was falling in and out of sleep, with periodic snoring. 

Meyer shook his head. “Nah. You know how they are about important business.” 


End file.
